The Cutting Room Floor
by sammie28
Summary: The stuff from "Dawn Treader" no one would ever put into a real book or script. Or into any serious writer's work.
1. Jeeves and the Unfathomable Fate

**The Cutting Room Floor  
OR, Why Sammie Is Not a Real Writer  
OR, Disastrous Encounters of the Dawn Treader**  
by Sammie

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

RATING: K+ (I'm so bad at this). High rating for a later installment because of lots of #$%& words.

SUMMARY: The stuff no one would ever put into a real book. Or into any serious writer's work. But then I'm not a serious writer. :-D

AUTHOR'S NOTES: In the words of Colin "Darcy" Firth, after he and Ben Barnes did the Eddie Izzard sketch on the set of "Easy Virtue": "Sorry, we couldn't help it."

I love crossovers...this is what happens when I'm allowed too much sugar and not enough sleep.

* * *

_MORE AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm still waiting for a definitive version of "Narnia", the way the BBC did the definitive "Pride and Prejudice" in 1995, and David Suchet's Poirot and ITV's "Jeeves and Wooster". I really admire Ben Barnes and Will Poulter, and I love Georgie Henley and Anna Popplewell's range. Sergio Castellito was a brilliant, brilliant Miraz. (BBC Miraz, take note. You were meant to be scary, not laughable.) Still, there is no way this movie set will be the definitive "Narnia" version._

Yes, I know Caspian has not been to Edwardian England. Yes, I know I can't write Oxbridge English. Yes, I know I am making P. G. Wodehouse turn over in his grave. Too bad.

* * *

THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR - CUT #1:  
THE CRUMMY AFFAIR OF POOR CASPY, or JEEVES AND THE UNFATHOMABLE FATE

"Jeeves, I believe I shall simply have a small drink and nip off to bed. It's been a busy day, you know. A narrow escape from Lady Florence always makes one rather exhausted."

"She is quite a vigorous young lady, sir."

"You needn't tell me. Oh, I'm meeting Barmy at the Drones tomorrow, and I'll be having luncheon there."

"Very good, sir."

"All right, then! Good night, J - " I was, rather irritatingly, interrupted by a pounding at the door. "Jeeves! It's nearly midnight!"

"Indeed, sir." Jeeves was his ever inscrutable self.

"You don't think it's some kind of burglar, do you?"

"Highly unlikely, sir, if he is pounding at your door."

On cue, the mysterious visitor pounded again.

"Well, what are we going to do?" I whispered, panicked.

"If I may suggest, sir," he said, handing me my golf club, "there should be no reason why the two of us cannot subdue the miscreant."

"Oh, yes. Of course. But must you use my golf club?"

"It is an illegal golf club, sir, but it would not be an illegal weapon of self-defense."

"Oh, all right." He glided towards the door, then waited for my signal. "Let him in."

Jeeves swung open the door quickly, and a dark-haired man came stumbling in. He grabbed the door, slamming it shut and locking it before slumping down against it in relief.

I stood stock still, my mouth hanging open, my club raised in a perfect swing. Jeeves looked unflappable, as he always does.

Such a fellow should be dealt with in a firm manner. "I say," I announced sharply as I lowered my club. "It's dashed impolite to come barging in to people's homes like this, especially at this ridiculous hour!"

The man gathered himself up off the floor, brushing himself off. "I am sorry, Bertie, but you just don't know the trouble I'm in!"

I wrinkled my nose as I squinted. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

He strode over, grabbing my hand in a handshake as he smiled. "It's me, Bertie! Don't you recognize me?"

I squinted even more closely. "Caspy?"

"Caspian the Tenth, of that name!" He said in what must have been an attempt at humor but sounded more like a death sentence. He threw himself into one of my chairs. "It's been forever since I saw you last!" He clasped his hands together. "I do apologize about the dramatic entrance."

"Dramatic it was. I barely recognized you! What did you do to yourself?"

"What do you mean, what did I do to myself?"

"Let me remind you, you left England a blond, pale-skinned, beardless, English chap. You're rather tanned. You been travelling in the summer?"

"No. As to the tan, well, that's all part of a very long story. And I do apologize - I can see how terribly dark it is outside. It must be late."

"Indeed it is, Caspy. These are not the normal hours for calling."

"I'm very sorry. The usual muddle about times, you know, coming from Narnia to your world."

"Well, let me get Jeeves to get us up something light to eat, and you can launch into your story. Jeeves, a little bit of - Jeeves?" I stopped, looking around, Caspy looking puzzled as well. "Jeeves? Excuse me a moment."

I found the poor man sitting in the kitchen, looking stunned and in pain. "Jeeves?" I said, patting comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I shall be better directly."

"I'm sorry you had to see all that."

"It's His Majesty's hair and beard, sir." Jeeves looked horrified.

"Yes, yes," I sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I know your feelings on mustaches, and to be confronted with it and its burlier partner _la barbe_ must be dashed horrifying."

"Indeed, sir."

"When you're recovered, some light sandwiches, please. I rather suspect Caspy's not eaten."

"Of course, sir."

"Take all the time you need, Jeeves."

"Thank you, sir."

I stepped back out into the living room, pouring us each a small glass of port. "Well, let's have it, Caspy. And while you're at it, explain that ridiculous accent."

He glared. "There's nothing wrong with my voice or my hair!"

"Again, despite the fact you left England as a blond, pale, beardless man with an English accent and returned a dark-haired...what are you, anyhow? You don't sound Spanish or Italian or Greek or anything. You sound more like a poor version of Monty."

"Monty?"

"You remember ol' Inigo - from school. Always looking for the six-fingered man."

"Oh, yes, of course." He nodded, then glared at me, then set back to pacing. "It's a disguise. I had to sneak my way back here, I'll have you know. I'm in desperate of help."

"This late, I should assume so!"

"If I'd known it would be like this, I would have let my uncle keep the throne!" Caspy threw up his hands. "If you don't help me, I'm done for."

"Caspy, you've lost me. You'll have to explain it from the start," I said airily, sitting down in one of the chairs. "And you can begin by explaining your hair and that ridiculous way you're talking."

Caspy groaned, reverting back to his normal tone of speech. "It was a disguise," he sighed as he sank into a chair. "I thought if I put black boot polish on my hair and spoke in a Mediterranean accent they wouldn't find me."

"Who would possibly want to look for you?" I joked as Jeeves glided in with some cucumber sandwiches.

Caspy did not look amused. "I'm a hunted man, Bertie! Everywhere! Mary Sues, chasing me. I thought the dark hair and the Mediterranean accent would throw them off my scent, but that hasn't worked at all."

He jumped up from his seat. "It's not just that, either. All I said to her was that I wished I'd had more time to know her better, and suddenly Susan was kissing me!"

"You know how these girls' minds are. Who was it that said this, Jeeves? That girls' imaginations are quite rapid and jump from admiration to matrimony?"

"Miss Austen, sir."

"No, no. I don't think it was her."

"As you say, sir."

"Well, regardless of who it was," I huffed at Caspy. "You know how these girls are. Your hat matches their shoes and you're engaged. Why would you even kiss her, then?"

"I DIDN'T!" Poor Caspy looked near tears. "She kissed me! And suddenly I'm bethrothed! Bertie, you believe me, don't you?"

"Never fear, Caspy, old man." I said bracingly. "I know exactly how it is. These girls. I don't know how many times I've ended up engaged to Madeline Bassett after having done precisely nothing."

"Thank you, Bertie." He sounded relieved. "I knew YOU'd understand."

"Who is this Susan, anyhow?"

"Oh, Her Majesty, Queen Susan the Gentle. Out of Narnia's golden past, you know. Wanders around in armor."

"Don't think I've met her."

"Fine archer. Kills scores of people with her arrows. That's Queen Susan the Gentle."

"Caspy, you keep using the word 'gentle' for somebody who clearly isn't."

"_I_ know exactly what 'gentle' means!" he huffed at me. "Right after our major battle, defeating Lord Sopespian, she introduced herself to the other Telmarines as 'Queen Susan the Gentle'. And I replied, 'You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.' And she poked me with the business end of one of her red arrows."

I winced. "I say, Caspy, you have got a problem."

"I don't know what to do!" Caspy wailed. "And now she's got it in her head that we're engaged!"

"Well, then, there's nothing to it. Jeeves has saved me from the the old ball and God's-daisy chain more than once, and he'll be sure to aid you. Unless, of course, this Mary Sue or Susan you speak of is his niece."

"Never, sir." Jeeves looked insulted. "I would not associate with either."

"Oh, excellent. Well, then, Caspy, fear no more," I said brightly, and poor Caspy sank into his chair in relief, a smile crossing his face for the first time. "With Jeeves here, your problems are at an end. I guarantee it. Jeeves here works wonders."

"You are too kind, sir."

Suddenly the doorbell rang, and Caspy jumped up, his eyes wild, any momentary peace forgotten. "They found me!" he squeaked in a very un-kingly voice.

"Susan?"

"No, Mary Sues!" Caspy grabbed me. "Hide me, Bertie." He ran past me into my bedroom. "Your wardrobe!" he exclaimed, and climbed in, pulling the door shut.

I gaped at him, pointing at him and then looking at Jeeves, who shrugged with a small grimace on his face.

"Send 'em away!" Caspy stage-whispered from his hiding spot in the wardrobe.

I shut the door firmly, stepping in front of the wardrobe, and waited for Jeeves to deal with the pursuers. He glided out the door and closed it, leaving only a small crack through which I could peek. I heard the front door open and Jeeves' dulcet tones: "Good evening, ladies. How may I help you?"

"We heard he's in here!" announced one with long, raven black hair and VIOLET eyes, who no doubt was wonderfully intelligent and had been orphaned as a child and cast ashore but was secretly a princess. Or at least some earl's daughter.

"I beg your pardon, miss?"

"Caspian," rang out the beautiful singing voice of a tall, lithe blonde who looked as if she could dance the tango as easily as she could shoot a weapon and no doubt had had the painful experience of having lost her parents, her siblings, her lover(s, plural), and her pet goldfish in tragic accidents which made her quite the loner but with a soft heart.

There was a crash inside my wardrobe.

"Bertie! Your wardrobe's rather crowded!" Caspy hissed at me, peeking out from the wardrobe door.

"Well, yes," I retorted in a whisper. "I happen to keep clothes in there, not full-grown leaders of the free world." I pushed the wardrobe door shut and rolled my eyes.

I heard from my sitting room, "There's somebody in there!"

"No, no. It is simply Mr. Wooster, who must have fallen from the bed."

I quickly ruffled my hair and lay down on the floor in front of the wardrobe so that they would have to step over me to reach Caspy. On second thought, that might not have been my best idea. Self-preservation is rather important.

"That's not possible, unless Mr. Wooster was hiding in the wardrobe!" The door swung open, and the violet-eyed one glared at me. Jeeves and Socrates were right - violet might be a lovely shade, but it is complete rubbish as an eye-color.

"No, no. I said that...my wig must be powdered," I interjected, looking up from the floor. "You know, powder - poof!" I made a small explosion motion with my hands.

"I am afraid, ma'am, that neither Mr. Wooster nor I understand whom you seek. Do you mean Caspian the sea?"

"The sea? What sea?"

"The large body of water in Central Asia, ma'am."

"Oh, let's get out of here. Caspian clearly isn't here," said the blonde one.

"If one does not mind my asking," Jeeves continued, "what will happen once you find this Caspian?"

"Why, he'll fall madly and inexplicably in love with one of us, of course," said the blonde. "These handsome chaps always do."

"Yes, I see," Jeeves replied. "May the best woman win."

"Of course I will," intoned the violet-eyed, dark-haired one.  
"Of course I will," intoned the blonde at the same time.  
"Of course I will," intoned a million voices in my apartment and in the hallway, at the same time.

"No, he meant me!" exclaimed the violet-eyed, dark-haired one.  
"No, he meant me!" exclaimed the blonde at the same time.  
"No, he meant me!" exclaimed a million voices in my apartment and in the hallway...at the same time.

"Never mind the best woman," I exclaimed. "What about me? I can't have this many people on my doorstep so late at night!"

"Might I suggest Hyde Park, ladies," Jeeves suggested, opening the front door more widly, "as a suitable venue for this discussion...concerning your gentleman's...affections. The space is large enough to accommodate your...large numbers. It would be a mere five minutes' walk."

"Good idea!" The violet-eyed one glared at the blonde. "We'll settle this once and for all."

"That's right!"

Jeeves inclined his head as he held the door open for the departing girls. "Very good." Just as quickly as they had appeared they were gone. Jeeves glided across the floor to the phone and promptly dialed. "Get me the police."

I entered the bedroom, tugging at the door the wardrobe, only to find it firmly shut. I pulled even harder, but it wouldn't budge. There was a squeak of fear from the inside. "Caspy! It's me! Open the blasted door!"

There was no sound from the inside.

"Oh, dash it all, Caspy, I know you're in there. They are gone; I promise. Jeeves just sent them to a park."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, Sire," said Jeeves, who had appeared mysteriously with two glasses of port. "The police will arrive in just a few minutes to arrest them for disturbing the peace."

"Oh, excellent!"

I tugged on the door as hard as I could, but Caspy had already let go, and the loss of the resistance force when I pulled with all my might sent me stumbling across the room. I glared at Caspy as he came crawling out, looking relieved; he took one of the glasses of port and downed it in a gulp and ignored me. "Thank goodness. Now, do you see what I'm up against?"

"They seem rather vigorous young ladies," Jeeves agreed.

"Oh, they are. Tall, long hair - blond or auburn or midnight black, violet eyes, ridiculously spelled names. I tell you, Bertie, women who spell Gladys with a w or Ethel with a y are really not be trusted. It's all the fault of your Alfred, Lord Tennyson."

Jeeves had a knowing look on his face; he was no doubt thinking of my entanglement with Gwladys Pembury, now Gwladys Pim. I ignored him. "Well, Jeeves managed to get them arrested for disturbing the peace of Hyde Park. A day in prison may give you a brief reprieve."

Caspy looked at Jeeves with admiring eyes. "Jeeves, you're a lifesaver."

"Very kind of you to say so, Sire."

"They sword-fight and dance and capture our enemies and sing like angels and can shoot bows and arrows but write poetry about the stars. It's miserable for me, I tell you."

"Ugh. Sounds rather like Honoria and Madeline Bassett and Florence all mixed into one."

"Worse." Caspy shuddered. "And they follow me everywhere! Bertie, I'd just like to say that your round-as-a-ball world is no fun. It doesn't matter where I run, they follow. At least in my world you could sail off the edge and no one could follow you there!"

"It seems they've already sailed off the edge," I commented.

"And then there's the matter of Susan, who's already planning a wedding even though I haven't even proposed." He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I spend my time looking over my shoulder, and I can't taste my food...it turns to ashes in my mouth. I was actually happy when those giants on the northern border attacked, just so I could go up there without them following. What am I going to DO, Bertie?"

"This is quite a bit of rum luck," I commented, wincing. "Things don't seem to go well with girls named 'Su', do they."

"I'd strike 's' and 'u' from the alphabet, except I need the 's', or I sound like a French commune in Aquitaine." He moaned like a man in pain. "I'm starting to get white hairs!"

"I don't see any."

"I told you, Bertie, this dark hair is boot polish." He sat up suddenly, his eyes brightening. He snapped his fingers once. "By gum! Do you think that if I end up with a head full of gray hair they'll stop chasing me?"

"Very doubtful, Your Majesty. It has not worked well for the American journalist A. H. Cooper, as an example."

"Oh, dash it all." He slumped morosely into his chair. "What am I to do, Bertie?"

"Have something to eat and buck up, Caspy," I said stoutly, as Jeeves handed him a small plate with some sandwiches on it. "Your problems are over. Jeeves will solve your problem before you finish."

"Oh, I hope so."

"I know so. Did he not just take on an army of Sues in a battle of wits? And, might I remind you, how did it end? Who was right and who was dead? Er - fighting in Hyde Park, I mean."

"Your confidence is very gratifying, sir."

"And well-deserved."

Caspian paused, looking at us both, and then nodded. "Forgive me, Jeeves. You'll have to forgive me. The last three years of being chased like a White Stag who gives wishes has made me rather cynical, even when I see the miracle of besting a Mary Sue. I put myself in your capable hands."

"Very good, sir."

"Now, put that great brain of yours to work for poor Caspy here."

"I believe that your Majesty's marriage will go a long way to reducing some of the...chasing aspect of your circumstances. It will, of course, also end the expectations of marriage by Her Majesty the Queen Susan."

"I know that, and I've been looking for a wife - in earnest! I just haven't found anybody I WANT to marry."

"Even among those models of perfection who just lately invaded my home?" I joked. Caspian glared at me. "Right. Still a touchy subject." I paused, steppling my fingers under my chin in thought. "Well, you haven't just looked among all those lords and ladies, have you? You know that Bingo just married an authoress."

"Bingo? Bingo Little? Who was in love every other day?"

"The very one. And Chuffy's married an American, and my uncle just married a waitress. Look far afield, Caspy. Your perfect lady is there somewhere."

"I have been looking! You wouldn't believe how many poor servants-secretly princesses there are among those Mary Sue crowds! I don't think there's a genuine lardmaker or pig farmer among them."

"Ooh." I made a face. "That is a bit of rum luck."

"And what am I to do in the meantime? Marrying is all well and good, but in the meantime?"

There was a long silence. The more seconds that ticked by, the more ole Caspy looked despondent.

"I do have a more immediate suggestion, but I wish to inform your Majesty that this will require a significant financial outlay."

"Of course. Anything!"

"Your Majesty should embark on a long journey to the East, taking several months to travel there and back. The time allotted should give some of this...enthusiasm time to die down, and no doubt some other society scandal will take your place during your absence, or some other young nobleman catch the attention of the young ladies, at least temporarily."

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "Caspy, it works wonderfully. Every time I need to escape, I go to New York. No Honoria Glossop - well, not all the time; no Aunt Agatha; no Florence Craye or Madeline Bassett."

"The time away really helps?"

"Oh, yes," I said, waving dismissively. "They eventually latch on to some other chap, even if he's got less money and less titles. Better two birds in the bush, you know, if you can't keep one in the hand."

"All right. But I can't just leave. I've got duties. And how could I even explain it?"

"As to the first, Sire, you would of course leave an able regent, such as the Lord Trumpkin, with a council. You might also elevate worthy young, unmarried noblemen as assistants during the time."

Caspy's face cleared, and he shook his head in wonder. "It's perfect! They'll get training on the job, and hopefully one'll inherit all my Sues. And Su-s."

"Precisely, sir."

"That should distract those Sues. And my excuse for leaving?"

"Well, your Majesty's father had seven lords who were exiled from Narnia, and sailed east. Your Majesty always spoke of searching for them, even before your ascension to the throne."

Caspy shook his head in amazement. "Of course!" He snapped his fingers. "I had always wanted to find what happened to them, you know, and swore it at my coronation. I've just been nervous about leaving Narnia after just three years. I'd been planning to draw up a team to go in my place."

"I suggest your Majesty go himself. After all, they were your father's loyal Telmarine subjects. It would show your Majesty's personal desire to continue his care of his former Telmarine subjects as well as his Narnian ones. It would also provide the ready excuse to sail east."

"Oh, that's brilliant! I've always wanted to sail, you know. And I can find the lords and avoid these Sues and this Su also."

"Indeed, this voyage would allow Narnia to avoid the unfathomable fate of being overrun by suitor-esses for your hand." Jeeves looked at him very intently and said in a solemn, ominous voice. "You understand, Sire, that the fate of Narnia lies in your hands."

Caspy nodded very seriously. "Yes, I do."

"Well, then! It's all worked out!" I offered brightly.

Caspy shook his head in amazement. "It's brilliant, Jeeves! You're a wonder."

"Your Majesty are too kind."

"Any particular suggestions about this trip, Jeeves?"

"In fact, I do have, Sire. I have heard that Ramandu's Island is an excellent place for you and your sailors to winter before your journey back west to Narnia."

"Excellent." Caspian jumped to his feet, reinvigorated. "Excellent. Jeeves, I am sincerely indebted to you. I am ashamed to say that I had to leave all my things in my hotel room in Chiswick when I escaped and have nothing with which to thank you now."

"No remuneration is necessary, Sire."

"No, no. I'll shave off this mustache and beard as soon as I get home in rememberance of your service. It'll have to wait until then - disguises, you know."

"You are too kind, sir."

"And Jeeves - and Bertie - I'll be sure to send you something brilliant from the Eastern End of the World." Caspy dusted his hands off. "Bertie, thanks for the drink and the breakfast. And Jeeves, my infinite gratitude." He clapped on a hat over his hair. "Well, I'll be on my way. Pip pip!" he said cheerfully, then fairly danced out the door.

"Another victory on your record, Jeeves," I said approvingly as the door shut. "And no doubt the highest ranked of those you've aided. But I do have one question."

"Yes, sir?"

"What if Caspy returns home from his voyage just to have all this trouble begin again? He'll just be back where he started, just several months later."

"You needn't concern yourself, sir. His circumstances will be unalterably changed by the time of his return."

"Changed?"

"His Majesty, of course, will be happily and safely married by his return."

"Married!" I looked surprised. "Is it - is it that Ramen Noodles' Island you mentioned?"

"Ramandu, sir, and yes. His daughter is quite suited to the king, and I am sure they will be very happy."

"Excellent, excellent. You've thought of everything."

"You are too kind, sir."

"Ramandu's daughter isn't named Su or Sue, is she?"

"No, sir. Thankfully, no."

**end**


	2. Silly Songs with Caspy

**The Cutting Room Floor (OR, Why Sammie Is Not a Real Writer OR, Disastrous Encounters of the Dawn Treader)**  
by Sammie

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

RATING: K+, I hope.

* * *

_Inspired by Sven-El on Narniafans-dot-com, who gave me permission to use his original quote on my profile page:_

_"Upon leaving Ramandu's island, Caspian promptly adds Ramandu's daughter as a friend on Facebook and changes his relationship status first from 'No longer in a relationship with Susan' to 'In a relationship with Ramandu's Daughter'."  
- Sven-El; __Narniafans-dot-com_ _forum's "Give the moviemakers silly ideas"_

* * *

THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR - CUT #2:  
THE SOCIAL NETWORK (WITH APOLOGIES TO MR. SORKIN AND MR. ZUCKERBERG)

"Where's the king?"

"In his cabin."

"In his cabin?" Drinian looked puzzled. "What's he doing in there? We're about to set sail, and if we don't get a move on, Reepicheep will be all over my case with that little pokey thing he calls a rapier."

Rhince shrugged. "The king told me to tell you to sail as soon as you were ready; he had a pressing matter of business to attend to."

"Pressing matter of business?" The captain looked even more confused. "In his cabin?"

"I don't know." Rhince shook his head. "He mentioned something about Facebook. I suppose that's some court thing I don't understand."

"It's not a court thing I've ever heard of, either."

[ v d t ]

.:type:. .:type:. .:type:.

.: Caspian X has just updated his relationship status.  
.: Caspian X is no longer in a relationship with Susan.  
.: Caspian X is now in a relationship with Ramandu's Daughter.  
.: C. S. Lewis likes this.

[ v d t ]

Facebook IM  
SUSAN: "Did I just get Facebook dumped?" .:Facebook poke:.  
PETER: "That is cold. That is COLD. But I did tell you not to post on Facebook all those pictures of the boys you met in America."

* * *

THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR - CUT #3:  
THE LOVE SONG OF J. CASPIAN PRUFROCK (I'd apologize to Mr. Eliot, but I hated this poem - although his other stuff was fantastic!)

Drinian, Rynelf, and Tavros continued to track the king and the star's daughter silently through the dense woods of Ramandu's Island. Miraculously, the couple didn't seem to notice two grown men and a minotaur stomping their way through the foliage. Drinian made a mental note to up the number of bodyguards around the king when they got home.

"Finally! A clearing," Rynelf said in relief as they crouched down to hide.

The couple talked for a little bit, and then the king went down on one knee.

"Aww," Rynelf sighed, wiping away a tear. Drinian gave him a creeped-out look.

The king then opened a small ringbox ("Where did he manage to get a ring out here?" Tavros wondered in a whispered moo) and began:  
"'You're too good to be true  
Can't take my eyes off of you  
You'd be like Heaven to touch  
I want to hold you so much'"

"Oh, by the Lion's mane," Drinian, on the left side of Tavros, groaned. "I TOLD him not to do this."

"What's wrong?" asked Rynelf, from the other side of the minotaur.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" Drinian waved his hand at the singing king. "You tell me. Which normal girl wants to be serenaded by a boy band?" Drinian sighed. "She'll say no to his proposal for sure, now."

"I think it's kind of catchy," Rynelf beamed, bopping along to the tune.

Tavros looked at him, then slid closer to Drinian.

"'I love you, baby  
And if it's quite all right  
I need you, baby  
To warm my lonely night'"

"'I love you, baby / Trust in me when I say - '" Rynelf noticed the dirty looks he was getting and shut up.

"I am so glad we're the only ones seeing this," Drinian groaned.

"I think the king's got a great voice," Rynelf retorted, still dancing and moving to the song. "We ought to, you know, the four of us get together. We could sing together. The Beruna Boys or something. Or Caspy Valli and the Four Sailors, even though there's only three of us besides the king."

Drinian shot him a dark look.

"I've always wanted one of those suit jackets with the sparkly lapels." He clapped Tavros on the back. "I think Tav here would look great in one."

Tavros glared. And snorted.

"Although, boss, the sparkles plus the glint from your bald head might blind our fans," Rynelf joked.

Drinian glared, but the glare wasn't as intense as the glare of sun off his head.

"New Kids on the Dock?" Rynelf mused. "No? What about the Backstern Boys? I know it's a little redundant when we're talking about the back of the ship, but just 'Stern Boys' doesn't quite have the same ring."

"Rynelf, how many people even know where the stern is?" Drinian blurted before kicking himself mentally. Don't encourage this idiocy, he reminded himself.

"I got it! We could be the Caspian 5! 'A-B-C, one two thr - "

Drinian wondered if throwing Rynelf from the crow's nest into the sea was a bad idea.

"I'd call us 'N'Sink', but that's a bad idea given we're on a ship."

Perhaps feed Rynelf to the sea serpent if they ran into it again.

"Hytide? How about that? Hytide. Hey, that's pretty clever." Rynelf beamed.

"We're leaving. C'mon, Tavros," Drinian announced abruptly.

"C'mon, Tav," Rynelf pleaded as they stomped back through the foliage - which, again, the king and the star's daughter didn't seem to notice. (There was oblivious young love and then there was oblivion, and this was starting to slide into the latter. Drinian was going to have to talk to the king about this later.) "What will it take for you to join up?"

"Put him out of his misery, Tavros," Drinian instructed the minotaur, who was snorting in what might have been rage. "Tell him you won't join his crazy band."

"Will you join up if we do some of Michael Jackson's later stuff?" Rynelf offered.

The minotaur brightened. "Can we do 'Beat It'?"

* * *

_Yay Sheldon._

* * *

THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR - CUT #4:  
THE FATHER OF THE GROOM - or, CASPIAN'S SLIGHTLY DEFICIENT EDUCATION

"So." Argoz looked at Mavramorn, who looked at Revilian, who looked at Rhoop, who looked at Drinian. "Who's going to do it?"

"Not I."  
"Not I."  
"Not I."  
"Not I."

"Well, somebody has to do it. The poor boy doesn't have a father to help him."

"And we are his father's oldest friends!"

"Perhaps we can convince the star to do it."

"No! He is the GIRL'S father! You can't seriously ask the poor FATHER OF THE BRIDE to do this!"

"Come now, friends, countrymen, Narnians!" Argoz boomed in exasperation, assuming his oratorical stance - one hand upraised, and one foot poised on a rather conveniently placed stool. "Are we men or are we beasts?" he roared eloquently. "Oh, wait. Well, no offense to the old Narnians." He re-assumed his speech-giving stance. "Are we men or are we mice?" he roared.

"Good thing Reepicheep isn't on board any more to hear this," Drinian muttered.

"Oh, right. My apologies." Argoz thought for a moment, then dropped his arm and abandoned the speech idea altogether. "Well, one of us has to do it."

"There are things even men cannot face," Rhoop intoned ominously.

"All right, we decide this the old Narnian way," Drinian cut in.

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's a game, and the loser has to do the unsavory task," Drinian explained eagerly. "It's called rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock, and it's very simple. Look," he said, demonstrating with his hands. "Scissors cut paper. Paper covers rock. Rock crushes lizard. Lizard poisons Spock. Spock smashes scissors. Scissors decaptitate lizard. Lizard eats paper. Paper disproves Spock, Spock vaporizes rock, and as it always has, rock crushes scissors."

There was a long moment of confused silence.

"Who is Spock?"  
"What is that weird signal you do with your hands?"  
"Are the lizards talking lizards?"

After what was, in Drinian's opinion, a very, very boring Telmarine tradition of "draw the short straw" (at least Miraz had done away with some stupid stuff), poor, red-faced Revilian proceeded to give the boy king the dreaded but important wedding-night talk.

* * *

THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR - CUT #5:  
HOMEWARD BOUND: THE INCREDIBLE JOURNEY (WITH APOLOGIES TO SHADOW, CHANCE, AND SASSY)

"Well, is there any way around it?"

"No."

"We did not sail through this."

"No, we sailed through the Dark Island the last time." The name sent shivers down everyone's spine.

"The last known island is here. Perhaps we can sail around it."

"But we know only the northern border of the island. We don't know how far it stretches to the south."

The door opened, and in stepped the star's daughter. She stopped short. "Oh. I apologize. I will wait outside."

"Oh, you're here." Caspian gently pulled her in. "We're trying to find an alternate route around the Dark Island."

"I see."

"We only know about this island here; we skimmed past the north shore on our way east."

"But you don't know anything about the southern shores?"

"Yes."

"Why don't we stop and ask?"

The room went silent.

"You mean, stop and ASK?" Argoz looked horrified.  
"As in, tell somebody else we don't know?" Revilian gasped.  
"As in, not try to figure it out ourselves?" Caspian asked in shock.

"Yes?" she said uncertainly, her eyes darting about the room.

"I've never done that before," Drinian murmured, bewildered.  
"There are some things even the most desperate man cannot face," Rhoop intoned ominously.

"You've never asked for directions before?" The star's daughter looked around incredulously, then sighed as she looked at the roomful of men. "Poor Queen Lucy."

**end**


	3. Who You Gonna Call

**The Cutting Room Floor (OR, Why Sammie Is Not a Real Writer. OR, Disastrous Encounters of the Dawn Treader)**  
by Sammie

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

RATING: K+, I hope.

**SPOILER NOTE: If you don't want to be spoiled, DO NOT READ CUT #7. Supposedly the Readers' Theater Play on which spoof #7 is based comes from the movie script. Do not read here if you don't want to be spoiled.**

**(Go over to a friend's house and read it.)**

**No, just wait until you've seen the film before reading this one.**

* * *

_I watched the "Green Hornet" trailer, and when Britt Reid shot off his gas gun, well... I actually am considering seeing "The Green Hornet", so no disrespect meant._

_

* * *

_

THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR - CUT #6:  
THE REJECTED "PRINCE CASPIAN" TRAILER  
(WITH APOLOGIES TO SHAKESPEARE AND TO SETH ROGEN AND "THE GREEN HORNET". NOT THAT THEY'RE IN THE SAME CATEGORY OR ANYTHING)

PRINCE CASPIAN: [riding Destrier while watching his hand-held LCD television]

TV REPORT: "This morning, Caspian (Reid) the Ninth was found dead."

CASPIAN: [hits head on branch and falls off horse]

[ v d t ]

CASPIAN: We've been completely wasting our potential. Narnia needs our help. We could be heroes. We will make a difference. ... We must be strong! I want you to take my hand -

EDMUND: I don't want to touch you. I'm not holding hands! No hugs. No hand-holding.

CASPIAN: OK. You don't have to take my hand, but I still want you to come with me on this adventure - this magical adventure. Did I say magical? (Don't forget the 'magical' part.)

[ v d t ]

PRINCE CASPIAN: How come I'm the only one with a gun?

KING EDMUND: Because you don't have fighting experience - in stark contrast to my sister, Queen Susan the Gentle, who hates to kill things.

CASPIAN: [googly eyes at Susan]

[ v d t ]

CASPIAN: [opens case] What's this?

EDMUND: It's a gas gun.

CASPIAN: A gas gun! How does it even work? [shoots his own face full of green smoke] GREEN MIST! [faints]

EDMUND: The mist learns your fears and then becomes them.

MIST: Caaassspppiiiaaann...I am your father. I mean,  
I am thy father's spirit...  
If thou didst ever thy dear father love -  
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder...

VIEWER'S WORST NIGHTMARE: (Kenneth Branagh's four-hour version of Hamlet...in Mediterranean accents)

[ v d t ]

CASPIAN: [points at gas gun] Can I see it?

EDMUND: [looks doubtful] OK, but be CAREFUL with it this time, o -

CASPIAN: I just want to look at it it. Just give it to me for one second. [shoots Ed, who falls over] That's for Deathwater.

MIST: Eeedmund...I can make you my king...and much more...

VIEWER's WORST NIGHTMARE: (Seth Rogen as Britt Reid)

* * *

_Stolen shamelessly from the Readers' Theater Play and from the movie with the best "feem toon" ever (even if Dennis Waterman doesn't sing it): "Ghostbusters." The lines are taken directly from the theater play and from the film._

_Again: supposedly the Readers' Theater Play is based on the movie script, and the first time I read the script this was INSTANTLY what I thought of. DO NOT READ ON IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS._

_I won't even attempt to put in quotes around the text taken from the theater play and from the film, just because it looks very jumbled and confused when I do so. Just know that, in fact, very little of the following I wrote - because, scarily, I didn't have to. It blended together a little too well._

* * *

THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR - CUT #7:  
WHO YOU GONNA CALL...

NARRATOR: Hungry and worn out, the group travels to the Dark Island. Shrouded in fog, the Dawn Treader approaches a rocky shore, where a mysterious figure is waving a sword about wildly.

LORD RHOOP: Keep away! You will not defeat me!

EDMUND: Caspian, look - the seventh sword!

LORD RHOOP: [stops swinging the sword and puts his hands on his hips] Oi! What about me, poor victim of this crazy island? Or should I just give you the sword and be over with it?

EDMUND: [thinks] Actually, since we are just here for the sword, if -

LUCY: Ed!

CASPIAN [shocked, because for some reason he suddenly remembers this lord's name when he never remembers it in the book]: Lord Rhoop? [to the crew] Bring him aboard!

LORD RHOOP [yelling madly]: Do not think! Do not let the mist know your fears, or the mist will become them!

MIST: The choice is made!

LORD RHOOP: Whoa! Hold on!

MIST: The Traveller has come!

LORD RHOOP: Nobody think anything! [turns to Caspian] Did you think anything?

CASPIAN: No.

LORD RHOOP: [to Lucy] Did YOU?

LUCY: My mind is totally blank.

LORD RHOOP: _I_ didn't choose anything.

ALL THREE: [turn to look at Edmund] Ed?

EDMUND: Sorry! It was me. I couldnt help it! It just popped in there.

LORD RHOOP: [sternly] What? What "just popped in there"?

EDMUND: I - I - I tried to think...

CASPIAN: Look!

[They all look over one side of the ship.]

EDMUND: No! It can't be!

LORD RHOOP: What is it?

EDMUND: It CAN'T be!

LORD RHOOP: What did you do, Edmund?

LUCY: Oh, sugar! (because what Zeddemore uses would require her putting money into her potty-mouth jar)

NARRATOR: Just then, a giant sea monster with a giant, cube-like white head, with a sailor hat on top, bursts out of the water, letting out a deafening roar.

LORD RHOOP: [glares at Ed]

REEPICHEEP: Who thought about a sea monster?

(DR.) EDMUND (STANTZ): [resignedly] It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Sea Monster. I tried to think of the most harmless thing - something that I loved from my childhood, something that would never ever possibly destroy us: Mr. Stay-Puft.

**end**


	4. A Poor Man's Eddie Izzard

**The Cutting Room Floor (OR, Why Sammie Is Not a Real Writer. OR, Disastrous Encounters of the Dawn Treader)**  
by Sammie

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

RATING: more than K+. T or something. U, V, W... **T for bad words which I've bleeped out - bowdlerized, if you will.**

* * *

_Shamelessly stolen from Eddie Izzard's stand-up (but at least I'm giving him credit - right, Mr. Leno?), where he talked about how the US and Great Britain are two nations separated by the Atlantic Ocean._

I do in fact love British mysteries and sitcoms and right now watch more of those than of American ones. I also LOVE American films and TV; it's fun to watch things blow up on screen, because it sucks in real life. Still, Izzard's assessment was still SPOT ON. Just watch the new "Hawaii Five-0" and then "Lewis" to see.

EDDIE IZZARD: "But we've got known in Britain for making the smaller films, you know. Recently, we've been pulling out of that into the more "Trainspotting" area, but the smaller films, they're kind of "A Room with a View with a Staircase and a Pond" - type movies. Films with very fine acting, but the drama is rather sort of subsued and - subsumed or - a word like that. Sub- something or another. You know, just folded in and everything's people opening doors."

"Whereas if the film did any little bit of business in America, if the film did some decent bit of business, then Hollywood would take it, and they'd remake it, and they'd up the budget by 50 million and it'd be called, "The Room With A View of Hell!" "Staircase of Satan!" "Pond of Death."

Has lots of "#$%&" in place of the actual curse words. Because what American movie (unfortunately) goes without the swearing? (And yes, the Izzard section on American movies uses a lot of bad words.)

* * *

**The Cabin with a View with a Staircase and a Sea  
OR, Why We're Glad Gary Sweet and Tony Nixon are Australian, Part 1**

The door opened, and Rynelf stepped into the empty hold before stopping short, realizing there was somebody already there. "Oh, I'm - oh."

"What?" Drinian looked up at him expectantly.

"Well. I've - oh."

"What is it, Rynelf? I'm arranging ... onions." Drinian turned to a string of onions hanging near him and moved it three inches to the right.

"I didn't realize anybody was in here."

"Yes, I'm in here. I'm always in here."

"Oh."

"Arranging...onions."

"Well, I - I thought you - ... I'd better go."

"Yes, I think you'd better had." Drinian hummed morosely.

"Sorry." Rynelf quickly backed out.

UPSET VIEWER: You can't eat popcorn to that! .:sighs:.

* * *

**The Cabin with a View of Hell! Staircase of Tash! Sea of Death!**

OR, Why We're Glad Gary Sweet and Tony Nixon are Australian, Part 2  
OR, This Week in Absolutely Necessary Censorship (With apologies to Mr. Kimmel)  
OR, Things Which Really Deserve an R-Rating (As Opposed to "The King's Speech")

The door opened, and Rynelf stepped into the #$%& empty hold before stopping short, realizing there was somebody already there. "You're in here all the time! All the time you're in here, with the #$%& onions! In here with the #$%& onions!"

"You don't talk to me that #$%& way!" Drinian shouted, brandishing a gun (a whole new prop for the film that wasn't in the original). "You don't talk to me that #$%& way!"

"That doesn't matter! That doesn't matter!"

(Nonsensical muttering) "#$%& onions - can't get 'em...I'm going to sail around and put babies on spikes!"

"Oh, no! Space monkeys are attacking! A whole new part of the film that wasn't in the original!" (epic battle sounds)

UPSET VIEWER: Just ONE new part?

Drinian put the upset viewer on a spike.

"It's jammed!" Caspian shouted. (dials on mobile phone) "Susan, I love you, really, even though it was a new part in the film that wasn't in the original." (epic explosion)

"Et maintenant un singe de la space arrete! Il lit un journal. (Il a on journal?) Il est dans le Dawn Treader! Il conduit le bateau (une nouvelle chose du film qui n'etait pas dans l'originel)! Et Sandra Bullock est dans le bateau! Il y a une bombe dans le bateau! Il faut conduire le bateau plus de 50 kilometres par l'heure!" *

VIEWER (watching, wide-eyed, and eating and drinking everything in sight): "It's a handbag. With a brick in it! It's the Queen (with 3-D glasses on)!"

**end**

_"And now a space monkey stops. It reads a newspaper. (It has a newspaper?) It's on the Dawn Treader! It steers the boat (a new thing of the film which wasn't in the original)! And Sandra Bullock is on the boat! There's a bomb on the boat! It's necessary to drive the boat at 50 km per hour!" __Thank you to rhstewart for the reminder for a translation._


End file.
